


This Doesn't Prove Anything

by KayLingLing7



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Frotting, Hand Jobs, M/M, PWP without Porn, Teenage boys are idiots, except it does have plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:15:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4406036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayLingLing7/pseuds/KayLingLing7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with an argument.</p>
<p>Like most teenage boys, Jean and Marco liked to talk absolute shit. And, while hanging out at Jean’s house one day after class when no one else was home, they somehow got into their weirdest argument yet: if the both of them were gay (and of course they weren’t, because Jean was always very persistent about how much he loved tits, while Marco would generally silently ignore any conversations about sexuality, preferring instead to smile and change the subject), but if they <i>were</i> gay, which of them would top?</p>
<p>Based off <a href="http://kaylingling7.tumblr.com/post/124819543157/">this</a> text post on Tumblr. This was meant to be stupid porn without plot but then feels and fluff happened, because I can't seem to write anything without it ending in cuddles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Doesn't Prove Anything

**Author's Note:**

> I just saw that stupid Tumblr post a few days ago and then the next day on the bus suddenly I had a whole plot thought out. I've been having some trouble writing for the past few weeks, so I decided to just get this one out of my system as a way to get warmed-up to finally update To Be Alone With You (my on-going JeanMarco fic that hasn't been updated in 7 weeks *cringe*)
> 
> Like I said in the summary this was meant to be porn but it went slightly off script from what I had originally planned. Still, I hope you enjoy it.

It started with an argument.

Like most teenage boys, Jean and Marco liked to talk absolute shit. And, while hanging out at Jean’s house one day after class when no one else was home, they somehow got into their weirdest argument yet: if the both of them were gay (and of course they weren’t, because Jean was always very persistent about how much he loved tits, while Marco would generally silently ignore any conversations about sexuality, preferring instead to smile and change the subject), but if they were gay, which of them would top?

“Dude, _obviously_ it would be me.” Jean said, for the third time, because of course it was so obvious that it just had to be said repeatedly.

“I don’t think so, man. I mean, the one with the bigger dick tops, right? And that’s me for sure.” Marco grinned toothily, some of the freckles in the corners of his mouth disappearing into dimples. As much as people liked to call him Freckled Jesus so much at school, there were times when he had proven not to be as saintly as they all imagined him to be.

Jean gapped at him. “Fuck you, I’m definitely bigger.”

Marco simply scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“I totally am!”

“ _Suuure_.” Marco drawled out, leaning back further on Jean’s bed where he was currently sprawled out, comfortably at home there. They’d been friends for years, after all, Jean’s home was practically his own at this point.

Marco didn’t miss the way his answer was riling up his best friend, trying hard to hold back the laughter bubbling in his chest as he watched Jean’s face turning red with anger. The laughter soon died away, however, as Jean got up from his desk chair and crossed the room to stand in front of him. Marco looked up at him, half concerned and half expectant. Jean was going to say something dumb in...

...3...

...2...

...1...

“Let’s see then.”

“What.”

Now Marco was looking up at him like he’d just grown a 2nd head.

Jean huffed. “Let’s see. The only way we’re going to be able to decide is if we compare.”

“Dude I am not comfortable with that.”

Jean scowled, even going so far as to stomp a foot on the ground like the toddler he was. “Why _not_? Come on, it doesn’t mean anything. No homo and all that shit, right? Now get up and take your pants off.”

Marco continued to stare at him. He wanted to strangle the blond idiot. “Jean I told you to stop saying that. Someone will get offended one day and give you another black eye.”

Jean rolled his eyes. “It’s just you. It’s fine. Come _on_ , Marco. If you don’t show me, I win by default.”

Marco didn’t really know what made him give in – it could be his usual push-over personality when it came to anything Jean asked for, wanting to get it over and done with just to get Jean to shut up, or because he actually did want to prove to Jean that he was the bigger of the two. He knew it as a fact, actually.

Marco sighs and gets up from the bed, standing directly in front of Jean so that his height looms over the blond, just a little bit. Jean bulks at the proximity, but doesn’t move away, craning his head slightly to look Marco in the face.

“Okay, so. Uh, we both drop our pants at the count of three, okay?” Jean tries to keep the bravado from earlier in his voice, but even he can hear how it shakes. He swallows nervously.

Marco only gives a short nod in confirmation. Where Jean is now fidgety and nervous, Marco takes on a stoic _this is stupid and I’m only doing this because you’re a persistent baby_ face, hoping this will all be over quickly. “Okay, but don’t be a cry baby when I win.”

That knocks some fight back into Jean. He glares up at Marco. “You wish. Come on, 1. 2. 3!”

At the count of three they both drop trow, heads swivelling down to take a look.

Marco only spares a quick glance at Jean before immediately looking back up again, because as much as he wants to look for longer, he knows that if he looks too long Jean will get uncomfortable, do his whole no homo straight boy routine and Marco can’t handle that right now. So he looks away quickly, confident in his win. He’s about to say _hah, I told you so_ , and pull his pants back up, like all of this is a normal thing for straight boys to do, but...

Jean’s staring.

And Jean _keeps_ staring.

Marco watches Jean’s face as Jean looks at his cock. Mouth slightly agape, cheeks reddening, pupils big and black in his golden eyes. Fuck, the way he’s looking at him... Marco can feel the heat pooling in his abdomen, can almost see the blood rushing from every crevice of his body to collect between his legs.

The words come out of Jean’s mouth like he doesn’t even realise he’s saying them:

“Fuck, you’re hung.”

And then the next thing he knows Jean is _kissing_ him, his scrawny arms around his neck, and Marco can’t do anything but throw his arms around Jean’s waist to try and steady them, keeping them upright so he can push Jean away from him and ask, “what the _fuck_?” in the most surprised and breathless voice he’s ever heard himself use.

And Jean’s just staring up at him, confused, but his cheeks are still flushed and his pupils are still dilated and he can’t _look_ at Marco like that, it shouldn’t be legal.

“D-do you not want to?” The words drop out of Jean’s mouth like each one is tied down to a weight, soft and broken with just enough uncertainty that it breaks Marco’s heart, so different from the boastful, confident voice Jean usually puts on, so much more vulnerable than he’s ever heard him, and it hurts Marco just enough that he finds himself tightening his hold around Jean’s waist and pulling him closer, leaning down to recapture Jean’s lips.

Jean reacts almost immediately, his arms around Marco’s neck moving up so his hands are gripping at his dark hair, tugging and pulling in a way that shouldn’t feel as good as it does but _god it feels good_ , and Marco’s hands are moving too, moving to grip Jean’s hip bones and pulling him closer, closer, and _oh god did their dicks just touch because that felt so-_

The thought, all thoughts, are driven out of his head at the way Jean fucking _moans_ against his lips. It’s all Marco can do to keep his head from spinning off. Okay so maybe he’s imaged situations like this with Jean before, but never quite like this, where his tongue is in Jean’s mouth and Jean’s hands are in his hair and their dicks are rubbing against each other in a way that feels so good but just isn’t enough, and there’s no way on earth he could ever have imagined the sounds coming out of Jean, filling his own mouth, beautiful and needy and better than any porn star he’s ever heard.

He’s trying to pull Jean closer to him, and Jean’s trying to get closer to him, and then they’re falling, Marco’s knee hooking on the side of the bed as his back hits the mattress, Jean on top of him. The surprise of the fall, unfortunately, causes Jean to bite down and Marco swears, pulling away to bring a hand up to his tongue, sure that Jean has drawn blood.

“Fuck! Marco, are you okay?” Jean props himself up to stare down at his best friend, his hands on the brunet’s chest and worry in his eyes. 

Marco tentatively touches his tongue, feeling over the bite before looking at his finger. Yep, no blood. “Yeah. Looks like I’m okay. I...” Marco swallows and looks up at Jean, unsure now. Would Jean stop, now that the mood has been killed? Get up from Marco’s lap, drag on his pants, and pull a no homo before pretending nothing ever happened?

His heart almost breaks at just the idea of it.

Before he can stammer out any more, Jean is putting a cold hand to his cheek, leaning down slowly to kiss Marco’s forehead in the most intimate gesture he has ever experienced in all his 18-years. He can’t do anything but stare up at Jean in bewilderment.

“I’m sorry, Marco.” Jean murmurs. 

Marco stares up at him for one more dazed second before he’s grabbing Jean’s shoulders and flipping them so that Jean’s back is against the sheets of his unmade bed and Marco is kissing the line of his sharp jaw. Jean makes a noise of surprise at the sudden turn of events, but the noise turns to moans as Marco bites at the sensitive flesh just under his ear. 

“Are you- are you sure this is okay, Jean?” Marco asks between bites and kisses, glancing up to look at Jean’s face.

Jean’s head falls back against the mattress to give Marco more room to work with before he replies. “ _Fuck_ , Marco, of course it’s okay. Just- ngh just shut up and do that again.” Marco laughs quietly but does as he’s told, lavishing his tongue down his best friend’s throat and adam’s apple, biting at Jean’s clavicle and sucking bruises into his pale skin. He still can’t fight the idea that this is probably a one-time thing, but he’s going to make the most of it while he can, marking every inch of Jean’s pretty pale skin so that he won’t be able to forget where Marco’s been and what they’ve done.

One of Marco’s knees are between Jean’s thighs, one hand finding its way under Jean’s shirt, stroking small circles into his hipbone with the ball of his thumb. His hips gyrate down against Jean’s, almost automatically, pulling noises out of Jean’s mouth. 

With one particularly hard bite from the brunet on his neck, Jean’s gasping leads to his hands wondering up to cup Marco’s ass, squeezing the firm flesh between his fingers and arching up in pleasure before he’s pulling Marco down towards him, directing the rhythms of Marco’s thrusts with his hands so that they’re cocks brush against each other more firmly. Marco gasps at the way he’s being man-handled, at the new friction between them, but it’s still not enough. He slides his hand down the v of Jean’s hips until it’s almost there, so close, but he stops, pulling his lips off from Jean’s skin to lift his head and stare into Jean’s beautiful golden eyes.

“Jean,” he breathes, voice dripping in lust but still unsure, still a little scared. “Jean, can I...?”

The blond bites his bottom lip, moaning low in his throat, before he’s nodding and throwing his head back, his body arching beneath Marco again. “Yes. God, yes, Marco, touch me, _please_.”

And that’s all Marco needs to fist his hand around both their cocks, holding them together, both of them gasping into each other’s mouths at the feeling. Jean brings his hands down from cupping Marco’s ass, one of them wandering down to caress Marco’s thigh while the other moves to rest on top of Marco’s around their cocks, guiding him and evening out the pace between them, until they’ve got the perfect rhythm going. 

With their foreheads resting together they simply gasp and moan against each other’s lips. Marco’s eyes are closed, taking in the sounds and sensations - feeling Jean to close to him is surreal, he’s worried that if he does open his eyes he might find that this was all just a really vivid wet dream and he’s just going to be alone in his bed at home. But then he does open his eyes, and Jean’s still there in front of him, his eyes closed and his cheek’s flushed, and it’s as if he can feel Marco’s eyes on him, because the blond’s eyelids flutter open and his beautiful golden eyes are staring up at him and Marco just can’t handle it. Jean is just so beautiful, so gorgeous with his angular features and breathy noises, and Marco just wants to tell him over and over again how good he looks and sounds and feels, wants to do this all the time, wants to be with him. The thought alone is terrifying, but he’s looking into Jean’s eyes and he’s got his hand in Jean’s hand as they both stroke at their cocks together and maybe Marco is just too sentimental and a little bit lonely, but it just feels right somehow, in this moment, to be with Jean like this.

“Ah- Marco-” Jean says from underneath him, pulling him out of his head. “Marco, I’m – ngh – I’m not going to last much longer.”

“Me too.” Marco breathes. He doesn’t want to admit it, because it’s just going to mean that this –whatever this is – is going to end soon, and he doesn’t want that. But he can feel the heat coiling in his abdomen and he’s so close, and the fact that Jean is close too just makes the pressure build up even more. Almost instinctively they both start moving their hands faster, gasping harder, and both of their eyes are open and they’re just looking at each other, holding eye contact as the speed picks up, and it’s so fucking weird but it just feels _right_ , and then they’re both coming at the same time, making a fucking mess of both their shirts, closing their eyes and gasping out each other’s names.

Marco falls to his side next to Jean, his eyes still closed as he rides out his high. It takes him a moment, but once his breathing has calmed down a bit he opens his eyes again to look at Jean. Jean, his best friend since elementary school, lying next to him on his back with his chest rising and falling like he just ran a fucking marathon, his eyes closed with bruises slowly forming on his neck and cum all over his shirt. 

Again it’s like Jean can feel Marco’s eyes on him, because slowly his eyes flicker open and then he’s turning on his side, an arm brought up under his head to use as a pillow. Jean looks at Marco and Marco just looks at him in return, both of them still struggling to get their breathing under control and wondering what on earth they should say to each other now. Or, at least, that’s what Marco is thinking, his conscious trying in vain to find something – anything – to say in his blessed-out mind.

“Fuck, dude.” Jean says instead, breaking eye contact as the hand that’s not under his head comes up and pushing his sweating hair out of his face. He sighs before he looks at Marco again, and a small smirk slowly spreads on his still-flushed face. “You know, this didn’t prove anything.”

“I... Sorry, what?” Marco has no idea what the fuck he’s talking about.

Jean’s smirk just widens even more, and then he’s moving forwards and shoving Marco on his back and kissing him again, only it’s not harsh or needy or rushed like earlier. It’s a slow kiss, soft and gently, his hands on either side of Marco’s jaw before he’s pulling his face away and grinning down at the bewildered brunet. “This doesn’t prove anything about which one of us would top, you idiot.”

Marco stared up at Jean with his mouth hanging slightly open, his mind slow to process the words. And then he’s laughing, laughing until there’s tears in his eyes because even if they both just basically had sex Jean is still the same fucking idiot best friend he’s always had, and that’s never going to change.

When his laughter finally calms down he looks up at Jean with smile still on his face, and Jean’s just smiling down at him. Marco pulls Jean down to his chest and kisses the side of his forehead, because that’s something he can do now, and talks just above murmur into Jean’s hair, “Well, you know, we can decide that some other time, yeah?”

Jean groans, nestling his face into Marco’s neck. “God, Marco, you’re going to kill me one of these days.”

Marco just laughs at that, a small breathy chuckle, before they both laps into a comfortable silence. They lie like that for a few moments longer until Jean gets sick on wearing his cum-stained shirt, making Marco take his off as well before offering his friend a pair of sweat pants to put on. 

Marco happily complies, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling his school pants off of his ankles before he’s pulling up his boxers and a pair of Jean’s thread-pair tracks that only _just_ fit him before Jean is back on the bed again, snuggling up with his face pressed to Marco’s neck.

They stay like that, softly murmured conversations passing between then while Jean draws little circles in Marco’s freckled chest, and every now and then the conversation spikes into arguments or laughter, one or the other hitting or pinching or tickling their friend if they say something stupid. 

They stay like that for hours, until they hear Jean’s parents come home and they’re forced to get up, put on shirts, and go down for dinner.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my tumblr, if you'd like to check for updates and my art: http://smutindevelopment.tumblr.com/


End file.
